


Capture the Flag

by climaxitis (orphan_account)



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5655958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/climaxitis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was obvious. Of course they'd choose you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capture the Flag

The Lichtenlade family tree is vast and sprawling, and her last name is enough to prove her status as merely a descendant of one of the extended branch families, instead of the main, but regardless of importance or rank it's a certain fact they all meet their demise at the same time as the head patriarch's. Her granduncle was murdered on a November night and with him went tumbling down the entire clan bearing his name. Not _because_ of his death, mind – but it provided a convenient excuse, you see.

She was not an immediate family, but like all things the semantics don't end up _really_ mattering. After all, the blood of a traitor runs along the veins of his descendants, no matter how far removed. Elfriede imagines those words written in history books of future days: typed on crisp white paper in bold dark ink as though that makes it any less of a falsehood or a lie.

Her granduncle's slaying was in November, but the truth is that it's December that manifests itself as a truly horrible stain on her calendar. A month of uncertainty and separation went by until her benefit of doubt was shattered with a hammer taking form as a tearful confession from one of her distant cousins, a younger girl with good ears to pick up guarding soldiers' conversations and an older brother, neither of them with names Elfriede was able to recognize. Elfriede held the other girl and let her muffle her sobs into her shoulder till they faded into feeble noises, and when all was said and done she could not find it in herself to cry. From the beginning, it was always clear no chances would be taken once the family head was buried and disposed of. It would be naïve to think otherwise, and that she did, was something she couldn't entirely pin down on youth.

Her voice sounds hollow to her own ears. Perhaps it means something in her had finally been broken. Though she doubts it; if that were the case, it would have happened sooner. She's not that tough to crack.

"It was obvious," she says. Her gaze is drawn to the ceiling; the yellow light is still painful even when she squints, so she doesn't try. Elfriede stretches her pale legs and doesn't manage to kick Reuenthal where it counts – an error in timing. The only reason she's disappointed is because she's succeeded before. "Of course they'd choose you."

The air is stifling and it's getting hard to breathe properly, but winter weather renders it less forgiving to leave the window open, so it's a necessary discomfort. Heat is starting to coil in the pit of her stomach, threatening to dissolve, and she's comes to accept the fact that when in such proximity it might seem like an easy choice to make between standing her guard and conceding. When it all comes down to it, there's really not much of a line separating victory and defeat – nevertheless, Elfriede likes to keep a tally. The side of her neck remains warm even after Reuenthal stops kissing her and pulls away, somewhat abruptly, to look at her; she closes her eyes and hesitates before chalking it up to an unforgivable instance of leniency.

Her gaze hardens immediately when it meets his. She wonders if she looks as wrong and unlike herself as he does when washed under this warm glow, caught in a position that must seem hopelessly prone. It throws her off-guard every time. She presses her lips thin into a line. He has the advantage by an overwhelming margin, and she has to weigh whether it's worth it to try kicking him again, or landing a punch, somehow, because it's an opportunity and she wants to take it, more than anything, even if it's a foolish act, she wants to –

Too slow.

He catches her hand midway before she even manages to reach his face. Another misstep in momentum; basic, even for her. His grip on her wrist is merciful, but the same can't be said for the one holding her chin in place, forcing them to meet eye-to-eye. For a moment, she considers the alternate possibilities. She could be subject to the concussive impact of her skull against the headboard; from this position, it should be temptingly easy to deprive her of air. This is laughable in comparison.

"What are you looking at?" The urge is still there, and it gets the better of her. "Stop that. You look stupid."

He doesn't reply, seemingly interested in something else. "It was obvious," he echoes. "What did you mean?"

She's reminded, then – somehow and in a sudden – that he must be drunk. It's such a blindingly obvious fact that it's funny how it gives her a start she actually has to take a second to recollect herself from. Noticing the elusive moments when Reuenthal is sober is even rarer; which is probably the reason why she lets it slip her mind during the more often instances when he isn't _._

"You're not the sort of person who'd have any regrets," it comes out before she has time to hesitate. Then, she doesn't bother stopping: "That's why they chose you – someone who wouldn't think twice before killing all those people."

Elfriede braces herself for the insult but what comes instead is laughter, something dry and humorless.

"That's requisite," he argues, looking at her like she's the stupid one, with that condescending leer he never seems tired of wearing. "I'm no different from all the others. The only difference to you, is that I was the one who killed your family."

"True," she says it too hastily, "you're all equally disgusting."

"The ones who benefit the most from war have historically always been the ruling aristocrats." Reuenthal laughs again before freeing his hand from her jaw and pulling her into an embrace, though it isn't so deserving of the word. His other hand closes gently around hers and when he squeezes she feels a current run up her spine, a poor mimicry of a cliché that's too full of revolt and anger to really be one. "You really are stubborn. We've been through this before, haven't we? Don't pretend you're any better than I am."

This gets a laugh out of _her_. She can't manage to say anything between bouts of stifled chuckles, but eventually she settles for a smile, something a little too wide and manic.

"I wish your mother had tried to do more than just gouge out your eye," Elfriede laments. "If she'd known the sort of thing you'd grow up to be, I'm sure she would have succeeded. I wish I could tell her myself; imagine that!" Her eyes are glassy and wet and she doesn't try to stop herself from laughing anymore after she notices. If anything, it's to soften the blow; unlike him, she won't have intoxication to pin responsibility on for this outburst, later. "She's probably all you ever think about," she continues regardless, her voice growing louder even as it starts to falter into something shamefully brittle. "You should just burn in hell and settle things with her there. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"It'd be a waste," Reuenthal counters, and scoffs, like it's obvious. "After all, I have you, don't I?"

To this, she has nothing to say. The night will end with a defeat on her end; knowing this, she might as well be a good sport about it. She brings her gaze back up to the ceiling and, for the moment, surrenders.

**Author's Note:**

> written for a request. supposedly the prompt was "#11 - things you said when you were drunk". thanks for reading! :)


End file.
